“So you see,” she said, “I’m not after a sugar daddy. I’m not after your millions, Todd Milstead. I just want you.”

She smiled.

“Stranger things have happened,” she said.

“I guess so,” said Todd. For a moment, though, he couldn’t think of any. He embraced her.

“Stick with me, kid,” he said in a voice that sounded quite like Humphrey Bogart’s, “You’ll be okay.”

Todd believed it, too.

*  *  *

Sara wouldn’t move in with Todd, even though there was room now that Janis had moved out (a U-Haul had been and gone with all her things, although Todd had no memory of this happening). She didn’t want Todd coming to her house, either, because Terry was still fussing in and out, living out of suitcases in a hotel somewhere, before finding a permanent place for himself and his future child bride to live. So Todd found himself in a strange state of suspended bachelorhood, where Sara would stay over, and leave again, and come back, and stay over, and leave again.

Days passed, and turned into weeks. Nothing much happened. It was the quiet time.

*  *  *

Behm called.

“Mr. Milstead, I think I’m wasting your money here,” he said. “There’s nothing.”

“Okay,” said Todd.

“Do you want me to continue?”

Todd shrugged, then remembered he was on the phone. “I don’t know,” he said. Sara was coming over in a half hour. He hadn’t even thought of Janis, he realized.

“I was hoping for a more decisive reply,” said Behm.

“Where are we financially?” said Todd.

“Well, I haven’t spent all your money yet if that’s what you mean,” said Behm.

“I guess that is what I mean,” said Todd. He laughed. “Okay, keep going until the check’s spent.”

“Sure thing,” said Behm, and hung up.

*  *  *

Two more manuscripts came back in the post. Todd was about to throw them away unopened when Sara said, “At least read the letters.”

Todd opened the packets, read the letters and ripped them up.

“Okay then,” said Sara.

“Nothing I haven’t read before,” explained Todd.

“Can I at least look at what you wrote?” said Sara.

Todd took her by the shoulders.

“You know in On the Waterfront when the guy says he could have been a contender?” he said.

“Yeah,” said Sara. “Are you going to tell me you’re that guy?”

“I wish,” said Todd. He stole a glance at the manuscripts lying on the counter top. “I’m the guy who couldn’t have been a contender. Which is fine.”

“Really?” said Sara.

“I am,” said Todd. He kissed her. “I’m a lover, not a writer,” he said. Sara laughed, and kissed him back.

*  *  *